


Little Things

by aph_angliska



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AmeChu, Angst, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Character Death, Dementia, Established Relationship, Growing Old Together, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Old Age, Old Married Couple, Overdosing, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 22:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30096225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aph_angliska/pseuds/aph_angliska
Summary: Alfred is starting to notice his husband is beginning to decline.
Relationships: America/China (Hetalia)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	Little Things

**Author's Note:**

> CW: implied suicide at the end, dementia & character death

It’s the little things, Alfred thinks to himself. The way Yao’s eyes drift away ever so slightly. The sleepless nights. The anger.

Sweeping the floor, over and over again. 

They’re both old. Yao’s hair is as long as ever, although it’s now a grey sheen. Alfred’s skin has freckled and sagged with the coming years. Yet he tries to keep a smile, like always. For them both.

“You didn’t catch any sleep last night.” Alfred gently pulls the broom from Yao’s grasp and puts it aside. “I’ll make you tea, OK?” 

Yao frowns. “Alright.” He shuffles away to their living room. Alfred can hear the television blaring some soap opera as he strains the tea leaves. 

When they were younger, Alfred always managed to do it wrong. Yao would lightly scold him but Alfred could hear the warmth in his voice as he gave him another lecture on how to do it properly. But now he finally does it right. It feels right. It manages to push away that deep unsettled feeling at the bottom of his gut. 

\----------------------------------------------

The days pass. They creep away one at a time. Ever since their retirement Alfred has been more comfortable with the idea of reaching the end of his life. In his youth it was his greatest fear but now it feels peaceful. 

Yao had never been scared of reaching the end. He shrugged it off as another part of life. 

\---------------------------------------------

He could chalk Yao’s weird behaviour up to old age. Alfred was far out of his prime too. He forgot easily and his joints were sore constantly. It was fine and they were okay. 

They’re both in bed together. The mid morning sunlight filters through the shutters and Alfred feels the painful nostalgia of older times together. He doesn’t particularly feel like getting up but he does anyway. Some brunch could do. “Yao, c’mon.” He nudges his husband’s shoulder.  
Yao slaps his hand away.   
“I’m up, Alfred.”  
“I was gonna make some brunch for us.”

“I’ll make it instead.” Yao pecks his forehead “I know what your cooking’s like.” This earns a laugh from Alfred. Yao chuckles alongside him. 

“Alright then. I’ll go for a walk.” He sits up, feeling his bones ache.   
“I’ll be back soon, kay?”

\--

Alfred didn’t mean to be gone for so long. Before he knows it, it has already been an hour. Fuuuck, Why did he have to get so distracted easily? 

When he comes back home, he expects Yao to be there to scold him about letting the brunch go cold. But he’s nowhere to be seen and the house is full of smoke and the fire alarm is blaring.

Alfred’s taken aback, but he quickly finds the source of the smoke. Eggs. They’re completely scorched, turned to nothing more than a black crisp. 

He breathes a sigh of relief but a feeling of panic starts to grip him. Where is Yao?

There’s no trace of him in the house. Alfred hastily unlocks the back door to their garden and immediately spots him. To his relief, he’s completely fine.

“What happened to brunch, honey?” Alfred cocks his head slightly, folding his arms. Yao is sitting on a bench, staring into the flower patch. Alfred sits next to him. He isn’t even angry, just concerned.

Yao doesn’t remember the brunch.

Alfred bites the inside of his cheek and looks towards the flowers too. There's buttercups, daisies, bluebells and even orchids. Most striking of all are the lilies, elegant in the light of the midday sun. He exhales wearily. Everything is fine. They’re okay.

\-----------------------------------------------------

It’s been months since Yao forgot the brunch. Alfred knows he can’t stop ignoring these things. It makes his stomach twist but some part of him knows Yao knows too. Neither of them want to confront it. But Alfred isn’t a child anymore. He knows it won’t go away no matter how much they try to pretend.

He and Yao are sitting on the same bench, enjoying the last few days of summer. Yao is sipping tea from a mug. Alfred drinks his preferred coffee. They’re mostly quiet. They bask in the sun, mostly appreciating each other's company.

They’ve been fine the last few weeks, almost like those strange events had never happened. Alfred is beginning to think he’s been too paranoid, too vigilant but he’s always been an optimist. It's a frustrating thought process. 

He eventually becomes at a loss so he just sits as he stirs those silent thoughts. 

Yao suddenly stands up. His gaze is fixated on something far off into the difference. He’s tense.

Alfred opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong, but Yao brushes past him. He murmurs something, very quietly. Before he’s completely out of earshot, he picks up on the word “Kiku.”

There's a moment of confusion before Alfred is hit with guilt. His heart sinks. There is definitely something wrong. He was such a fucking idiot for trying to even deny it. 

Kiku was Yao’s baby brother. He died of cancer before he was even 12. Yao was completely distraught by the fact but it hasn’t been brought up in 20 years. Now he's looking for him. 

Maybe if Alfred accepted the reality of the situation earlier, he could find treatment. Maybe they could slow the development. He gets up and follows Yao back where he's wandered off into the house. He’s standing in the middle of the kitchen, having finally snapped out of that stupor.

“Come on.” Alfred finally says. Yao knows what he means and he sighs as he pulls on his coat and some proper shoes. 

They’re at the doctors within twenty minutes. There's assessments for Yao to complete once they explain the situation to their GP. Alfred helps Yao out with some questions but it's completed in good time. 

\--------------------------------------

The diagnosis comes a week later. 

Alfred sits next to Yao on their living room couch, his hand gently resting on Yao’s back. 

Yao’s hands are covering his face and his shoulders heave silently. Alfred wants to be strong for them both, but he still feels hot tears roll down his cheeks. 

Alfred wishes they were young again. He wants this to all be a dream. He wants to curl up under the covers in childhood home and escape this. It’s a selfish thought so he gazes out the window and tries not to think at all. 

\----------------------------------------

Alfred tries to make the most of their remaining days. It hurts too much to think about the future so he just focuses on the present. 

They don't have long together. It's a bitter truth he’s been trying to come to terms with. 

They go on walks, visit family, go to places they’ve never been. Alfred is upbeat, or at least he tries to be but he knows Yao is deteriorating. He wants to try and make his last few months special for them both.

\------------------------------------------------------

They’re outside today. Alfred brings out his walking stick to help him for longer walks. The park they pass through is mostly quiet. It’s peaceful and he whistles a tune under his breath. 

They sit down and listen to the ambience. Alfred pulls a sandwich from a bag and hands it to Yao. 

\--

“Alfred.” Yao says as Alfred begins packing away the leftovers  
“Hm?”  
“I just wanted to tell you-” He pauses to clear his throat. “--that I love you.” 

Alfred doesn’t know what to say. There's a pause between them. Yao sighs. “I’m sorry, Alfred.” 

Alfred’s voice is firm. “Don’t apologise. Please.” 

\-----------------------------------------

It’s been so long since they last went out together. The doctor advised them not to do outings like that for fear of Yao having an accident.

It shouldn’t hurt as bad as it does when Yao stops recognising him. He’s seen this coming, but his heart aches so bad. 

Yao sits in a corner of their living room most days. Alfred tries to keep him company and bring him meals. Yao meets him with confusion and even hostility. 

Alfred would hunch over to Yao, despite the protests of his back and try and encourage him to eat the food. Sometimes the meal would immediately be discarded onto the floor, or Yao would just grip the fork, unsure of what to do with it. 

He keeps asking for Kiku. Alfred hasn’t got the heart to tell him he’s dead. 

\-------------------------------------------

What hurts more than Yao not recognising him is the brief moments where he would. 

“I’ve seen you before.” Yao murmurs. His eyes are warily trained on Alfred as he sweeps the living room floor. 

Alfred turns to face him. “That’s because I’m your husband.” He taps his hand. “Look at our rings.” It’s a futile effort, but Alfred craves some recognition so badly. Even if his brother and friends are supportive, it’s nothing compared to Yao’s old self back. 

Yao frowns. “No.” He starts to pull the ring from his finger. “You’re not. I don’t have one.”

Alfred presses his lips together. He takes Yao’s hands and squeezes them ever so slightly. He tries to force a smile but it’s hollow and lifeless. “Okay,” He murmurs. “Alright.”

\---------------------------------------------

Yao has stopped asking for Kiku. 

He’s started seeing things instead. People in the walls, or voices beckoning him outside. Alfred sometimes would see him standing by their backdoor, yelling into their garden. 

His checkups from the doctor are almost weekly. They’ve started to discuss end of life plans. He doesn’t want to talk about it but it’s something he has to face. Even though it's completely inevitable, he struggles to work through it. 

\---------------------------------------------

Alfred sits in the lobby of the hospital, checking the clock on the wall almost every five minutes. He tries to think about other things but he just can’t. 

This is all his fault. He shouldn’t have let Yao wander the house by himself. 

The doctor eventually approaches him with a clipboard. She holds up an image of an X-ray. "He shattered his hip.” Alfred remains quiet as she continues. “There’s a possibility of surgery but there’s too many complications for it to be worthwhile.” 

This is it.

Alfred feels small and weak and helpless, more than he’s ever been. He can’t even bring himself to speak. 

The doctor is giving him a sympathetic look. “You can visit him now.” 

Alfred gets up. He’s brought his cane today and he shuffles after the doctor to the ward Yao is in. The walls are precisely clean and sterile and white. There's a feeling of even deeper despair that his husband is going to have to die in something so unfamiliar. 

The life support’s beeps get louder as Alfred approaches Yao’s bed. He’s so frail and hardly conscious. 

“Hey,” Alfred sits on a stool beside the bed. There’s no response from Yao, not even the faintest twitch of a finger. His empty eyes stay fixed on the ceiling.

The doctor leaves, obviously to give them some time alone. Alfred clasps Yao’s hand in his. It’s stiff but relaxes at his touch. He can’t think of anything worthwhile to say. A goodbye, maybe?

Alfred knows it’s pointless, anyways. Yao can’t hear him. He’s little more than a corpse at this stage. 

Alfred is trying to fight tears that start coming down anyways. They drop on his shirt and his shoulders heave with a sob. 

“Fuck.” He ignores the concerned stares from passing nurses. It's just him and Yao here. “I’m sorry.” He had failed him with his own childishness. Even in his old age Alfred was still the same. An idiot.

Alfred grips Yao’s hand tighter like he was about to be ripped away. There's not much precious time left and Alfred still can't think of a goodbye. 

They sit in silence for the following hours. Alfred can’t bring himself to go. He can’t go. Their house is empty. There's no warmth, no familiar smell of spices coming from the kitchen. No laughter or any sort of smiles. Yao may have been a husk of his former self, but at least he was actually there. 

Alfred’s tears resume and he’s sobbing so hard he doesn't notice the doctor approaching. It's a wordless exchange. He was going to have to leave eventually. 

\---

The drive back is silent. He can’t even bring himself to turn on the radio. 

Alfred climbs in bed as soon as he’s in the house. The blankets are soft and still faintly smell of Yao. He smiles faintly as he drifts to sleep. 

\---

The news comes the next morning. 

Alfred puts the phone down without saying a word.

\---------------

There's not many people attending the funeral. Some relatives and a handful of friends. Alfred is glad for this, in a way. It's not overwhelming for him when he's at his lowest.

Yao looks peaceful in his casket. There's a bouquet of lilies clasped in his hands. Alfred instinctively reaches for his hair, tucking away the stray grey strands. He doesn't bother to stop himself.

A couple of minutes pass and he eventually brings himself to sit back down. 

Alfred’s given condolences during the after party. His brother is worried about him and he tries to brush it off. What is there to worry? The worst has already come. His husband, his best friend of fifty years is now sealed under six feet of soil. 

The worst thing though, was that he had to watch Yao die twice.

\----------------------------------------------

Alfred brushes up on his will, pulling it out from an old drawer in their study. He leaves it out as well as a note to Matt. He tries not to be too mopey or sentimental. 

When it's finished, he puts down his pen and leans back on his chair. The usual pain in his joints has subsided. The pills prove their worth once again, but he took a whole two bottles and now he feels the first of the overdose coming on.

Alfred rises to his feet but the lack of stiffness now feels lucid and almost dreamlike. Almost young again.

It's a peaceful feeling and he wanders through his house, taking in nostalgic sights and sounds. He flips through an old album of him and Yao. The time they went camping in their early thirties, Alfred’s brief artistic phase in his forties, and the half up half down hairstyle Yao started to take on by the time his fifties rolled around.

There's even photos of their wedding. It still manages to bring a smile to Alfred’s face. 

He eventually puts the album down. There's no use dwelling on the past. Not now at least. There's no point in spending his last few moments sad and nostalgic. 

Alfred’s legs feel weak and he finds himself a seat in the living room. His eyes go wide as he gazes up towards the ceiling. He tries to feel peaceful but after a few minutes the foggy feeling of the pills clear and he stands up again.

There's a new feeling in his body and he finds himself being able to move freely for the first time in a decade. The sun shines outside and Alfred can even hear the gentle melodies of birds singing from their nests. 

Maybe he should go for a walk. 

The air is warm as Alfred opens his front door. There's flowers blooming everywhere, some he hasn't even seen before in his whole life. As he walks along his usual route, he notices a small path branching off. He examines it curiously as he’s somehow never noticed it. 

The path is sheltered with long and spindly trees, the sunlight dappling on his skin as it breaks through the canopy of leaves. Alfred strolls along the new trail cautiously at first, but relaxes quickly. It's completely quiet aside from the whistling of birds and the rustling of branches. 

The trees eventually end and as his eyes focus he’s met with a field of white lilies. They stretch as far as the eye can see, off into the horizon in gentle rolling hills. 

As he's taking in this gorgeous scenery, he suddenly notices a figure in the distance approaching him. 

As the figure gets closer, they come into focus. 

Alfred stays still for a moment. 

It feels almost too good to be true. Like a happy ending he doesn't deserve. But there he is. Yao is standing there. His black hair is gently blown by the breeze. The wind carries the scent of the lilies, wafting sweetly through the air. Yao is smiling at him, something wide and brimming with pure delight. 

Alfred practically leaps through the field to embrace Yao. They’re holding each other tightly in their arms. “Don’t fucking do that again.” His voice is muffled as he mumbles into Yao’s neck. “Please don't ever leave me.” 

They stand in that strong embrace until Yao stumbles on his footing and they both collapse in a heap onto the lilies below. Alfred can’t help but grin and laugh, pecking Yao on the forehead and nose. 

Yao brushes Alfred’s bangs from his face. He reaches to pluck a nearby flower and pushes Alfred off so he can decorate it into his blonde hair. 

It's something they do for a while, weaving the fragrant lilies into each other's locks of hair. Yao eventually stalls. He’s looking out into the distance, clearly distracted. 

“What is it, baby?” Alfred's voice is gently prodding. He’s worried something is going to ruin the moment. Yao sighs.  
“Do you think we could find Kiku?” 

Alfred scratches his head and shrugs, following Yao’s gaze to look at the seemingly endless field.   
“Maybe. We can look now if you want.”

“Yeah.” Yao stands up and helps Alfred up to his feet. “I’d like that.”


End file.
